twisted beautiful things

xx. ashes

xx. ashes

'i know she's thinking that she got herself a winner 

i know you fucked her on the counter right before you cooked her dinner

yeah i know you think about me when you kiss her

i left in a taste in your mouth, 

can she taste me now?

i'm bitter'

(fletcher)

>>>

gianna

If I am made of flames, I am made of ashes too.

I compare myself to fire, as if I have enough fuel to burn. But the truth is, eventually all that's left is the glowing embers of a forgotten fire and the ashes that cover my whole room.

I feel the fire dwindling inside of me, even as exciting things are supposed to be happening.

Macbeth tryouts are today. And although I am an insanely good actress and I know exactly what character I am auditioning for, my energy is below my average levels.

I haven't been getting much sleep lately-schoolwork, mostly. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, haunted by nightmares of a certain teacher. When that happens, I shiver further into my bed of ashes and hope that sleep will give me some respite from the burn.

I've been hanging out a lot with them-Amir, Novella, Julian, Atticus, Kennedy. I'm not sure why they have suddenly accepted me into their group, but they have.

Maybe accept is a strong word. I know they don't trust me with their secrets, but well, I've picked up on a few things.

Amir-his dirty laundry just aired the other day, but of course I figured out he was gay before he told me.

Atticus has a bit of a drug problem.

Julian's dad is an ass.

And Novella has a bad relationship with food. There's something weird about her family too.

I'm not sure what Kennedy's baggage is, but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon.

It makes me feel weird, to be honest. Being a part of their 'group.'

It almost feels like I belong, and for some reason I just have this urge to...fuck it up.

Like, I know I'm going to mess it up anyway, like I always do. Why not get it done and over with now?

"You good?" An amused voice asks me and I blink rapidly, looking up.

I'd been staring at the display case of pastries in the Bean, trying to decide if I wanted the blueberry muffin or the scone, when my mind had floated away from me and eventually I was standing in line just staring.

Timothy stands next to me, a smirk on his face. In the glow of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, his golden eyes almost glow, and his teeth seem more white than usual.

I blink blankly at him before turning back to the display case, trying to shake him out of my head. There's only a few more people left in line and goodness knows I hate ordering, so I need to make up my mind-

Timothy laughs. "Wow,'' he says, "I've never seen you speechless before."

The embers inside me flare a little, wanting to fire back at him, but it's as if there's not enough oxygen to keep it alive.